His Little Jojo
by Mia M. Turner
Summary: oO Horton Hears a Who Oo A little drabble that takes place between the "96 glasses of water" scene. The Mayor's thoughts on how things are with his own sanity and, more importantly, Jojo.


**A/N: **So I got a nosebleed while watching my little first graders at work today. So what to do sitting around with nothing but a tissue in your nose and a laptop? Write fiction apparently… This idea's been floating around my head for quite some time, so it was about time I got in writing. This takes place in-between the girls asking the Mayor for a drink of water. Enjoy!

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Horton Hears a Who.

The Mayor sighed as he filled up his 96th glass of water. Finally, a glass for each of his little girls. He turned to head back upstairs, but hesitated for a moment, racking his brain, knowing he'd forgotten something.

He smiled a bit and filled up one more glass of water.

One for his little Jojo.

This whole "speck" mess was certainly putting things in perspective. It was frustrating that Jojo wouldn't speak to him, but it could _certainly_ be worse. Jojo never spoke to him, but he didn't show any signs of _hating_ him at least… It was hard to get a word in edgewise with 96 sisters, he imagined Jojo didn't speak simply because there was no time to.

But what about those 12 seconds every morning?

Sometimes Ned would even reset the clock for another 12 seconds when he was sure that Sally and the girls weren't looking. One morning he'd managed to reset the clock for a good two minutes before the girls got suspicious and he simply _had_ to move on.

And still nothing. No "Good morning, Dad", not even a little nod. He would only stare up at him with those… well…

What kind of eyes _were _they? They were so blank and emotionless. That was the most frustrating thing to Ned. How could he possibly figure out why Jojo wouldn't talk to him when the look he gave him was so vacant? He almost found it unsettling in a way. Sitting there for those twelve seconds, running his mouth off, while Jojo wouldn't say a word, yet wouldn't take his eyes off his father at the same time.

Ned could think of nothing else to do than to pay extra close attention to him and hope he could get _some_ sort of hint as to what was bothering him. And even if he couldn't, the extra attention couldn't hurt. Whether he knew what was bothering Jojo or not was irrelevant: _something_ was bothering him, and he needed his dad to help him through it.

Ned smiled at the idea. Jojo _needed_ him. He just knew it. He felt his spirits lifting. Suddenly, the weight of the world was lifted off his shoulders. He had so much to be thankful for; the perfect wife, 96 perfect little girls and a perfect little boy, all of whom he loved very much.

Of course… Everything was going _great_! He smiled from ear to ear; what had he been so upset about in the first place?

Oh…

Right…

He was hearing giant elephants.

He'd gone home that night and thought long and hard about what had happened, or more appropriately, whether or not he was going insane.

It took an hour of convincing himself, but he eventually had to admit that he wasn't crazy. He furrowed his eyebrows in thought. Why on earth would he doubt what had happened that morning?

He frowned as he realized the answer.

Everyone _else_ thought he was crazy.

And the more people who believed so, the more he began to question whether they were right or not. Then again, he wasn't alone in the feeling. He couldn't imagine Horton's friends and family were any more pleasant about him claiming that tiny people lived on a speck.

Ned cringed at that. Being a "tiny" person was an idea that was going to take some getting used to. The very word "tiny" struck a painful feeling in the pit of his stomach. And yet somehow, it wasn't for himself. It wasn't for the people of Whoville. It was for the 96 little girls sleeping upstairs. For Jojo.

Jojo… He'd almost forgotten all about him. He smiled a bit once more.

Jojo didn't think he was crazy. Well… Jojo didn't _know_ his father was talking to a giant elephant in the sky in his free time, but that wasn't the point. Jojo needed him. But it was abundantly clear that he needed Jojo as well. Despite his shyness, he certainly had a sweet disposition to him, and that's all Ned could ever ask for as a parent.

That was when the mayor was struck with a brilliant idea. 'Shyness'… No wonder Jojo was so upset! He was always gushing about Jojo growing up to be this great, outgoing leader just like he was. Jojo must have been upset because he was a very shy Who by nature, and telling him he had to be outgoing certainly must have been making him nervous. What was wrong with him being a _quiet_ leader?

Ned smiled widely again, grabbed the glasses, and hurried upstairs, bursting with anticipation in delivering this news to his son.

Through the clear glasses of water, he could see him coming towards him in the hallway.

"Hey, Jojo!" Ned wiggled around a bit as the glasses started tipping. "Oop, lotta liquid… Looooota liquid…" he took a few steps to the side to balance them back out. "Just the man I wanted to see."

Jojo only did as he usually did: stared up at his father without a word.

"Listen… I realize we have not been seeing eye to eye lately. And _most_ of it is my fault." He beamed, excited about Jojo's reaction to what he was going to say next. "Jojo… Let me make this perfectly clear: you can be… _whatever_ kind of mayor you wanna be! Hands on, strong and silent, outspoken, it's up to you!"

It was a little unclear from the wall of glasses between the two, but Ned could swear he saw Jojo beam back up at him. He sighed in relief.

"Well… I'm glad that's out of the way." He lifted a glass off the pile and slipped it into Jojo's hands. "I am expecting _big_ things from you, young man. Big things! Alright, good night." He gave him a loving pat on the head before continuing down the hall to the girls' room.

"Good stuff! Good talk."

That went well.


End file.
